Here you are B-slayer:

Again, sorry, not sticking to canon. That whole without-a-body-thing-using-dead-people kind of freaks me out. That and I wanted something with flesh and blood. You'll see in later chapters why. Fellowship of the Ring. Feel free to point anything out. I read all my reviews and take them seriously, so if you find something that doesn't fit, please comment. Thanks for reading!

Wake up to Sunny Sunnydale

The first thing Aragorn felt was the sun on his left cheek. His drowsy mind was slowly beginning to register that unconsciousness was fleeing but still had no desire to force his eyelids open. His fingers twitched on his left hand reflexively and were greeted with pointy blades of grass tickling his fingertips. The last remnants of his darkened state were leaving; he inhaled deeply, absorbing the aroma of the grass. Opening his eyes, Aragorn made two significant discoveries: one, that he was sprawled face down and his sword was digging into his hip rather painfully; and two, that he was not where he should be.

Although where he should be, he was not sure of. His foggy mind and blurry vision led him to believe that he was either drugged or had been knocked unconscious. But how long ago?

With a groan Aragorn rolled onto his back, immediately relieving the pressure on his hip. He brought a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring sun, although he did not recall it being this hot. After breathing in deeply for a few moments, Aragorn realized that something smelled odd. He pushed himself into a sitting position, still shaking off the effects of sleep. There it was again; that funny smell. He sniffed experimentally and looked about him. Where in Arda was he? This whole place smelt terrible!

Aragorn slowly got to his feet, rubbing his neck where it felt like he had slept on it in an awkward position. He took in the short trees and thick bushes around him with confusion. Since when did Mirkwood have shrubs?

Mirkwood! The thought galvanized him as his memory suddenly resurfaced. The rip that appeared in thin air, the scouting parties, the arguments brought on by a spell, the…

Where was Legolas? The Ranger could clearly remember the Elf's hands holding on firmly to his forearms as they were dragged into the fissure; Aragorn was sure they had fallen into darkness together. But Legolas was not near him. Aragorn's pulse quickened in anxiety, but he dared not call his friend's name aloud for fear of unknown enemies at bay.

Aragorn searched the ground for any tracks that indicated Legolas' presence, but even with the tracking experience of a Ranger, he could find no trace of his Elven friend.

Legolas could not directly remember the act of falling, although he distinctly registered the sharp pain in his cheekbone after he landed. With a grunt of pain he picked himself up off the ground but was rewarded only with nausea-inducing dizziness. He struggled for balance only briefly and feeling considerably more composed than he had been, he set off to…

Oh, this did not look good.

Adrenaline surged through his veins as his Elven senses were bombarded on all fronts. He saw humans, scores of them, clothed in odd garb unlike any he'd ever seen in his travels. And they were looking at him, pointing, whispering, full out staring. Legolas had never been one to be self-conscious, but then again, he had never been the centre of attraction before. He was more than uncomfortable with it, for he knew their attention was not necessarily in good tidings.

There were carts, wagons of some kind, but they moved with nothing to pull them, horse or otherwise. It was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

He was obviously in a city of some kind, but it left Legolas bewildered. True, he had never seen the mortal cities of Osgiliath and Minas Tirith, but he doubted they looked anything like this. It was bizarre, highly alien and what in the name of the Valar was that smell? For a place that had no horse in sight it certainly smelt like they had trouble cleaning up after them.

When his full level of panic had finally been reached, Legolas knew he must find a hiding place of sorts. He turned to leave only to find himself faced with a speeding wagon, careening out of control for it was headed straight for…him. With lightening-fast reflexes, Legolas did the only thing he could do – he jumped.

And landed on the hood of a blue Ford Taurus.

The lone male occupant shrieked like a twelve-year-old girl at the sight of a young man in a Christmas costume that he was about to plaster like road kill and was now standing gracefully on his hood. The kid was staring at him quizzically, like jumping on the hoods of speeding cars was nothing new to him.

The thirty-year-old computer salesman had just been telling his coworker that Sunnydale could be a pretty boring place compared to L.A., but now – there was some crazy acid freak playing high-speed-high-jump with his Taurus!

He exited the driver's side with shaking hands; he thought for sure that he was going to smoke the kid when he first saw him. Alright, so he hadn't really been paying attention to the road, but what kind of nut just hangs out in the middle of the street?

"Hey, you okay?" He asked, his voice trembling just as much as his hands were. The guy just stood there, on his hood, staring at him with an unrecognizable emotion.

The man was at a loss for words. A crowd had gathered around them now; gosh he hoped no one called the cops. That would have been all he needed on his driving record.

"Hey, you sure you're alright? You didn't like, hit your head or anything?" But still, the weird-looking kid just kept staring at him. The man couldn't help but feel like he was under a microscope, not just from the loonie still hanging out on his hood, but now from the bystanders as well, who were giving dramatic play-by-play reenactments for newcomers.

"Hey, kid! You speak English?"

Legolas could barely grasp the words coming from the cart-driver's mouth. What kind of Westron was that? The man was now kicking at the ground, jamming his hands in his pocket with a sheepish look on his face.

"You aren't gonna sue, are you?"

"Sue?" Legolas repeated.

Aragorn was first alerted to the overwhelming presence of danger by a high-pitched screeching that made his ears ring. With a warrior's instinct, he rested his hand on his sword hilt in readiness while racing towards the origin of the noise.

He neared a gangly overgrown hedge and peered cautiously over it. His breath caught in his throat with a strangled choke.

Well, on the good side he had now located Legolas. Unfortunately, Legolas seemed to have drawn quite a crowd to himself as he stood on a platform of sorts in the middle of a chattering grouping. Legolas himself seemed to have picked out one of the members of the mob and was cocking his head to the side, whether in attentiveness or scrutiny Aragorn could not be certain from this distance. He had to get Legolas' attention.

"Were you, like, a reject from 'Men in Tights' or something? Cuz you are, like, an actor, right?"

Legolas stared down at a young maiden with an utterly baffled frown. The blond teenager kept winking at him as she sipped noisily from a white paper cup. The Elf was about to ask why her clothes were too short for her torso when he was interrupted by an unmistakable whistle. Relief flooded his features, and with a graceful leap he flew over the heads of the astonished onlookers. He darted over the cemetery hedge and out of sight, much to the chagrin of the females.

Legolas ran up to Aragorn full-steam and embraced his friend with an uncharacteristic exuberance that nearly knocked the man down. Aragorn, slightly puzzled but nevertheless entirely understanding, took Legolas by the arm and guided him to a thickly wooded area.

"Aragorn! Did you see that? There are carts without horses! They move on their own! Isn't that fantastic?! That is a priceless piece of magic, that is. But these humans, they don't speak properly. It is as though their Westron has been tainted somehow. By the way, what is 'sue'? Have you ever heard that phrase before? I don't think it is very good whatever it is. And did you notice that stench? It is everywhere! It is as though – "

Aragorn covered his babbling companion's mouth with a hand to silence the stem of non-stop words. Aragorn had never seen Legolas so completely taken or exhilarated as this.

"Legolas, I do not think we are in Middle Earth. This world, it doesn't feel like ours."

Legolas calmed his abundantly beating heart to consider Aragorn's words and soon found himself studying his surroundings. Aragorn was right; there was something very off about this land. It was as though…

"It feels dead." Legolas said softly, almost sadly. "These tress, they are silent. It is almost like they are overcome with a never-ending sleep." He looked towards the street and his eyes brightened again. "But out there – "

Aragorn grasped the Elf's shoulders, imploring him with his eyes. "I think we must stay away from there." Aragorn knew from first-hand experience that Elves were innately curious, and once their interests were piqued it was difficult to keep them focused on anything but. "We don't belong here Legolas." Aragorn simply stated, quietly.

Legolas sighed inwardly but nodded in agreement with Aragorn.

Satisfied, the Ranger stood and looked about him. "Now we must find shelter. Now, we must find out how to get back."

The Scooby Gang gathered around the large round oak table in the book section of The Magic Box. While Willow, Tara and Xander poured over dusty, antique and occasionally gruesomely-illustrated books, Buffy sat hypnotized by her newest acquisition – the arrow from the demon's chest.

"Like this?" Asked Willow hopefully, holding up a book opened to a page depicting a snarling green demon with red eyes holding an axe.

Buffy frowned. "Shorter and more pointy-eared. No axe."

Willow plopped the book down with a sigh. They had been there for all of last night and the greater portion of today, perusing scores of books on demons, weaponry and inter-dimensional portals, but all with no luck.

Xander rubbed his eyes. "If I have to read about one more ancient, stupid – " he paused as he noticed Buffy glaring at him, "yet finely crafted arrow, well by gosh, I might just start to appreciate them."

"Thank you for spending money here! Please do it again! Soon!" Enya waved away her last customer with her patent overly anxious merchant's smile and made her way to the Scooby table of misery. "I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of all this. So a portal opened up. The only thing that came through was already dead." She reasoned.

"But what is it?" Buffy questioned. "And where did it come from? And who's to say it's the only thing that came through?"

The door to the shop swung open with an intensity that made the steel wind chimes slam together. Dawn came running in, grinning and holding her hands outward with a typical excitable high school girl glee. "Ohmigod! You will not believe what just happened!"

"You discovered how to lick your elbows." Buffy offered, which only resulted in a death glare from her younger sister.

"Ha ha." Dawn said dryly. She turned to the rest of the group with the excitement creeping into her voice with ever mounting velocity. "This guy was dressed up like Robin Hood and this other guy was driving along and nearly ran him over and then Robin Hood jumped right onto his hood at the last second! And he was soooo cute!" She squealed.

Buffy looked confused. "Robin Hood?"

Dawn nodded quickly. "Mm-hmm. And he was tall, he had long blond hair, and pointy ears, and his eyes were sooo blue and his pants were sooo –"

Buffy cut her off with an upturned palm. "Pointy ears? Robin Hood?"

Dawn shrugged. Buffy got out of her chair and met Dawn eye to eye. "Did he by chance have a bow and arrow?"